Allied
by JuniperLemon
Summary: Soldier Dean goes undercover in Morocco with spy Sam Wesson in order to assassinate the enemy's commander. Falling in love was never part of the mission.
1. Chapter 1

**_~Dialogue is in italics when they're speaking another language ~_**

* * *

Dean tightened the tie around his neck whilst desperately trying to ignore the way the fabric enclosing his body was turning instantly damp from sweat. His body rocked with the movement of the old car as it rattled along the even older road. He shucked a finger in between his neck and collar to allow a slight breeze to close his over heated skin. Limited relief. Quickly, he pushed his crumpled army uniform into an old canvas bag and slipped it down onto the floor. The last thing he needed when infiltrating enemy territory was for an enemy soldier to notice his US uniform lying across the back seat.

The driver, a local to the town they were heading toward, peered back at Dean through the rear view mirror every few minutes. Despite being on their side, Dean was uncertain that he'd even even seen a US soldier before. He hoped the man wouldn't blab or the whole operation would collapse. He swallowed.

" _Your husband,_ " The man murmured as they got closer to the town which was surrounded by desert, " _will be wearing a white shirt with dark blue over the shoulders. Look out for the crossed guns_." His thick accent made it difficult for Dean to understand but he managed to decipher the words. The man leant back, barely keeping his eyes on the road, and handed a set of keys to Dean which would allow him access to a car and his 'husband's' house. The older man also passed back a small velvet bag with a gold band inside; it slipped over his finger easily.

The soldier didn't completely understand what he meant by 'crossed guns' but knew that if he saw them it definitely meant something good. Hopefully anyway. Butterflies were circling in his stomach as for the next week every second of his life would be wrapped in paranoia and constant vigilance. Not exactly a summer vacation.

Morocco was under threat from enemy forces so it was his job, along with his 'husband', to set themselves up in the area in order to assassinate the leader of military operations for the enemy. His Arabic and Berber weren't perfect but he'd been practicing for months to get his dialect to a useable level and accent French. His partner in this operation had been building a fictional persona for him to inhabit once he turned up and part of that is that he's a French mechanic. The mechanic part is easy enough but the French accent hadn't been so easy to master especially when speaking Arabic or Berber.

" _Here's your car._ " The driver pulled the taxi to a stop beside an old, beat up vehicle. " _Leave your uniform."_

Dean already knew to leave it. He had been briefed to do so beforehand. The last thing they wanted was for a local or enemy to discover the USA military uniform stashed away somewhere. It could jeopardise the whole mission.

He got out, the heat of the sun instantly beating down on him, and quickly slipped into his new car. He made a move swiftly to avoid suspicion by loitering around too long. Dean peered down at the bar name that was scribbled onto a scrap of paper. He'd been given simple enough instructions to get there so started the engine and it chuckered beneath him clumsily. Well, at least it meant he blended in with the locals.

* * *

It was easy enough to find from the outside but once he made it inside it became a challenge to identify his partner for the mission. A thick smog clung around the room from the cigarettes and occasional cigar being smoked by almost every patron. He tried not to cough and give away his distaste for smoking as it would undoubtedly identify him as an outsider. No man raised in this town would be unaccustomed with the tang of smoke. Nor would a lover of a local.

The soldier braced himself and pushed in, the smoke closing around him and lapping at his edges. It was hard to see well enough to make out the people until you were close enough to almost touch them so he'd already received some strange looks from people he went stumbling towards.

Suddenly he spotted it; a black leather jacket with two crossed hand guns sewn onto the back. It hung over a chair on a large table where everyone was staring and laughing at one man. Immediately Dean knew he'd found his man. He took a couple of steps closer and, as if the spy could sense his presence, turned around to gaze directly into his eyes.

The man's lips were curled around a cigarette, lighter held halfway ready to light. The hazel of the eyes shone as the low lighting emphasised his doll like eyelashes surrounding them. Long hair fell around and framed the face drawing attention to his cheekbones. They held gaze for a moment, silently assessing and secretly confirming the other's identity. The stranger's eyes crinkled as he smiled and leapt up from his seat. He towered higher than those around him and the body that carried him made Dean's jaw almost drop open.

The tall guy rushed over to grab the sides of the soldier's face and pull him up into a searing kiss. Dean was unprepared for it but quickly caught on. So what if he enjoyed tangling his hands in this guy's hair a little more than necessary?

"Sam." The man, Sam, whispered against his lips to remind the soldier of his name, " _I missed you, Love_." The accent was perfect. He spoke louder to ensure everyone at the table could hear his words before pulling Dean back down into another kiss.

" _So, you're the mysterious Dean we have all heard about._ " A woman, dressed largely in furs, commented from the table, " _Sam didn't make you up after all._ " As she laughed the light glinted off the diamonds that surrounded her neck. Sam knew who he needed to be 'in' with and it wasn't the common local.

" _We thought he was crazy!_ " A man joined in, laughing.

Sam tugged on Dean's hand to drag him back over to the table where all the people were seated. They were all grinning whilst looking adoringly upon Sam. He clearly had every single one of them wrapped around his finger.

" _Please! You know I'd never make him up! How would I find a good husband if I went around saying I was already married?_ " Sam chuckled along with his friends.

One of the older men with slightly greying hair caught Dean's attention before addressing him directly; this was going to be the first test of his accent and pronunciation. He had to mentally remind himself that the mission wouldn't have continued if his spoken word wasn't up to scratch. The old Moroccan asked how work was going. Dean was relieved that they'd all been fed the false information so his job was made significantly easier.

" _Slow. There is a war on so car maintenance isn't a priority at the moment._ " Casual, he leant against the back of Sam's chair. The soldier smiled at the older person. " _Now, I hate to be rude but I haven't seen my husband in over 4 months._ " Sam turned his head and Dean correctly interpreted that as a hint to kiss him, " _So, could I steal him away for the rest of tonight?"_

" _Dean! You're too rude!_ " The tall man openly laughed as he spoke, angling his body towards their audience as invitation to interact.

From just watching Sam play them Dean already knew this guy was a pro. It clearly wasn't his first time weaselling his way into a complex social group and becoming the true life of the party. In short, somebody nobody would suspect. Despite putting on a good performance of loving Dean, he was meanwhile able to enthral those around him and make them truly believe they meant something to him.

" _No! No! No! 4 months is too long for a husband to go without his partner! We insist. You owe him and besides, we can always catch up next week._ " The woman with the furs commented again peremptorily.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, I couldn't thank you enough!"_ Dean placed a kiss on the side of Sam's neck. The man hadn't been prepared so jumped then laughed and swatted away his partner. " _I thank you!_ " The soldier slowly pulled Sam away from the watching people, only giving him enough time to whip his jacket off the back of his chair while calling back his farewells.

They could hear the group still laughing as they left the building, not one of them factitiously.

* * *

They clambered into the car and Sam subtly gazed around them as Dean prepared the engine. Hazel eyes scanned the shadows and paths around them silently like a hawk. Dean was about to speak when Sam smushed their lips together to silence the words about to escape his mouth, in English.

The sound of footsteps then emerged from around a corner. The policeman slowly passed the car, tapping on the roof to encourage them to move off home. The man walked off again without so much as a word or any sign he'd actually seen them aside from the simple double tap.

The engine grumbled as Dean pulled away from kerb and into the centre of the road. It was only after he'd travelled a fair distance did he notice Sam practically pouting at him.

"Next time you want to say something in English wait until we are definitely alone or at home." His accent was American which surprised Dean but he couldn't figure out why. It does seemed obvious that Sam would be American since he is an American spy. Despite the chances of anyone hearing their voices over the engine being at 0, the spy still whispered. He'd learnt to be over cautious from experience.

The rest of the journey past in complete silence as Dean had no idea where he stood with his new husband. Hopefully the hostility wouldn't last too long.


	2. Chapter 2

The house was small but very open with large windows and archways which made the several rooms feel like one. An easy breeze made the thin cotton curtains flutter across the room as though they were weightless, mere clouds. Dean wanted to stop and appreciate the way the moonlight cast moving shadows on the cold red stone floor from the fabric but Sam, accustomed to this mundane beauty, gathered up the long curtains and tied them aside.

"Why did you open them?" He asked from where he stood in the middle of the largest room. Couches faced each other in the middle, segregated from the other by a dark brown coffee table. In the long room there was also the cooker and kitchen as there wasn't enough space to keep the areas separate.

"Nosy neighbors are vital in spreading rumors about our relationship. People believe gossip no matter where it comes from. So, would you prefer the old woman from across the road to say that we don't act like a normal couple or do you want to give her evidence so she can essentially vouch for our relationship?" Sam laid out the facts and Dean couldn't fault the logic. Like he'd thought: a pro.

Sam continued speaking, "and she's looking now so chuckle at something I said and wrap your arms around me." The spy put on adoring puppy eyes to gaze at his 'husband'.

Dean did what he was told by pulling Sam close into his embrace whilst ensuring they were in full view of the window. Sam tiled his head down and gently pushed their lips together and sparked the most intense kiss the soldier had ever experienced. It felt so natural. So real. Their hands explored and traced each other's bodies as they remained intertwined.

Eventually Sam reported that the weird voyeuristic neighbor had closed her doors and slipped away into the darkness of her own home. Did she not have anything better to do? Sam followed by pulling shut their doors and curtains until they had almost complete privacy.

Dean glanced around the small space. He could make out a double bed in another room which was only separated by another soft curtain. A picture of Dean sits framed beside the left side. Would it be expected of them to have sex? Not that Dean was complaining because it had been a long time since he'd been with anyone let alone someone with looks like Sam's but they barely knew each other.

He rubbed the back of his neck even though he knew it made him look nervous, "I, um, I can take the couch."

Sam's eyebrow raised slightly and he crossed his arms across his chest, "You'll be on the roof. It's a long standing tradition that men would spent time on the roof after making love to their partner. Don't ask me what they do up there because I do not know but that's where they go."

"By why do I have to go on the roof all night when I'm supposed to be French?!" Dean didn't notice when his voice began to rise.

" _Be quiet_! There are ears all around us just waiting for something to spread around. We can only speak English if you are quiet or they'll report us. Now get your ass on that roof so all the neighbors can see my nice little French husband has just finishing making love to me." The sternness in his face didn't allow for negotiation. Sam remained solid and wouldn't relax from his defensive position.

Dragging a rug, the soldier clambered up the red stone steps and onto the flat roof. It was quiet and the sky was pitch black. However, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he began to notice millions of stars one by one appearing above him. He rolled out the rug by the wall so it acted as a backrest to allow him to stargaze like never before. In America the sky is mostly a black canvas due to the pollution which meant he had never really appreciated its beauty.

It had only been a short while when Sam's footsteps brushed against the desert dust on the steps. A flickering light appeared first followed by the man himself. He was in his night clothes but didn't seem ashamed to been seen in them. He came and knelt down on the corner of the carpet, placing the lamp between them. The warm yellow was cast over their faces like the bad stage lighting he'd seen on Broadway before being deployed.

Sam whispered but mischief shone behind the hazel of his eyes, "For a man that just had sex you're awfully tense." He smiled, eyes only briefly meeting Dean's.

"I'm not the best actor. I find it hard to push aside my actual feelings and replace them with fake ones." Dean admitted. Finding that opening up can also be used as an alternate method for apology.

"The best way to survive in this business is to keep the emotions real. It makes the performance more realistic." Sam gave over the tip that made him sound like an awfully good manipulator, "But that doesn't mean we'll have sex because then the emotions get too complex to use." They kept their voices barely above a murmur.

Dean inspected Sam's face. His almond shaped eyes and sharp cheekbones gave him an almost model like quality. It had been a long time since Dean had laid eyes on such an attractive person and he knew that these emotions that were bubbling inside weren't like Sam's; when they burst he wouldn't have any control over them. He'd succumb to them and prove himself to be weak.

"You can come down in a couple of hours once all the neighbors are asleep. I'll lay the couch out for you."

Sam stayed their kneeling in front of the soldier looking expectant and somewhat impatient. He raised his eyebrows in hint but Dean only squinted in response. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes but forced a giggling grin onto his lips to create a faux situation. In this made up world Sam had to deal will his cheeky husband and adored his naughtiness. In reality, Sam couldn't even get the baboon to kiss him to keep up the facade.

Eventually Dean understood and leant forward to kiss his partner. He cupped Sam's jaw in his hands and kissed him passionately, ignoring the stirring within him it caused. Now satisfied, Sam left to go to bed leaving Dean with just the memory of the kiss, a lingering taste of Sam and the flickering lamp.

He sighed, this would be a long operation.

* * *

"My husband takes pride in his clothes despite us being relatively poor and his shoes are always shined. It is small facts like this that build up a realistic picture to the locals and maintain a sense of realism, _no_?" After speaking the native language for so long Sam would occasionally slip back into it easily and hardly realise until Dean points it out which he has decided not to do because it is cute.

Sam opens the large dark wood wardrobe and they stand in front of it looking at the suits and shirts handing side by side. One half hardly touched when the other is clearly regularly used. The gazed at the selection for a while as though trying to comprehend the gamut to which this whole life had been fabricated for them. Once the enemy's military Commander was assassinated they could run from this old dusty town and never see each other again. And yet, for over the last year they have been 'married'. Dean didn't even know if Sam was actually married or It might just be another role he's managed to materialise.

Sam broke the reverie first by saying, "Just pick something. We are heading out."

Only minutes later Dean entered the living area in a grey suit. Sam nodded approvingly, his eyes swiftly passing over the other man's lean and muscular body.

"Perfect! But remember your character. Dean Wesson, French mechanic finally home to his husband." Sam slid on his dark sun glasses as he spoke and shot him a smile with glimmering white teeth. He was wearing dark trousers and a crisp white shirt popped open at the collar to reveal his tanned skin.

"You know the persona well." Dean commented as the walked towards the door.

"Eh," Sam shrugged, "You imagine a person for so long that he eventually becomes real to you. It keeps the emotion real... You fall in love." He turns and grasps the door handle, "Y _ou ready, my lover_?"

Mischief sparkled in the hazel depths and Dean knew he'd have to watch out for emotion with this one.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun was beating down on them mercilessly but Sam seemed to be holding up just fine. Dean on the other hand was practically melting onto the baked stone but a napkin waved in his face had to suffice. How did Sam drink hot tea in this kind of temperatures?

Sam was waving to locals as they passed by; every single one being less than discreet as they peered over at Dean to inspect him. This obviously led to an introduction in which Dean would immediately forget the individual's name and stand there awkwardly as Sam enthused with the person over some issue or topic. The man seemed to know everyone on an intimate evel.

"Drink your tea. You're being disrespectful, dear." Sam murmured lowly as he lowered himself back into his chair and sipped up the remainder of what had settled inside his cup. "We have that appointment in a couple of days."

Dean fought to remember if he'd been informed of any appointment occurring in the next few days. His confusion clearly transferred to his face as Sam rolled his eyes in an almost knowing way, "The counsellor. We are trying to get you on his list to the Commander's ball." Almost silently he whispered it across the small round table.

"This hasn't already been arranged?" He whispered in return but with severe agitation and frustration. Everything was said to already be in place before he arrived here. If he was refused then Sam would have to attend alone and assassinate the enemy's leader of military operations alone which would almost certainly result in Sam's death. You need two; one to shoot and the other to shoot the people shooting at you.

"Don't take that tone with me, lover." Sam hissed, "He refused to permit me one so long as you were absent. He didn't want to waste an invitation in case you never showed."

Dean fell back against the back of his chair and sighed before running a hand over his face. Such a sign of emotion was threatening to their whole mission.

Sam panicked, grabbed his hand to kiss and spoke, loud enough for most to hear, "Dearest! Do not panic! The company is in safe hands with Marie so please do not stress."

Dean gazed across at this man he knew nothing about. A man that had fought so long to build up a character and a persona that he probably didn't even know who he really was. Sam's tongue darted out to moisten his lips, a movement which Dean had already learnt to associate with nerves. But was that really his reaction or yet another fabricated action? What he definitely knew, however, was that Sam was relying on him. After all, it takes two to tango and without Dean playing his role he'd screw them both over and be the cause of their death.

The soldier took and deep breath and stared straight into his husband's eyes, "Of course, love. I know that." He gulped down his cooling tea.

* * *

They had time to kill over the coming days as they tried to lay low in the run up to their appointment with the man responsible for selecting those on the invitation list. Sam said he knew a place they could spend the day whilst there being minimal risk of Dean messing up and causing their murders.

The car rattled as the road became less maintained. They continued climbing however up a steep slope that seemed never ending. The soldier leant forward to peer upwards so he could just see the sun beginning to crest over the edge of the hill. His green eyes slid over to where Sam was distractedly adjusting the mirror as they hurtled along. Dean had to resist the urge to cling onto the door handle for support.

The frostiness from Sam had only just begun to melt away so the soldier wasn't about to criticise the man's driving. When not bickering they actually seemed to get on well enough.

"We've been driving for ages. Are we nearly here?' Winchester grumbled.

"You're just impatient to see the surprise I have in store. It's so beautiful that you'll love it." A smile pulled at his lips. "Just a little while longer."

That happened to be just a little white lie as they were still travelling 30 minutes later but at least now Dean could see the place he reckons is their destination.

The glinted off the water like glass sending bright rays toward them blindingly. His mouth began to water at the sight of the cool pool stretched out a head of them. The car began to slow as the got closer to the crystal clean liquid. The car stopped, engine ticking as the two men sat in silence staring at the lake and the deep green trees and hills that surrounded it. Their own oasis.

"How did you find it?" Dean murmured, squinting out in a feeble attempt to see the far end.

"The first few months you're deployed in a new country it can be overwhelming and sometimes you just need to get away. I stumbled across it mostly by accident on a scorching day and it gave me the strength to go back down and stride into that bar and start mingling."

There was quiet as they stared.

A small bird slapped its stubby wings overhead. A light but quiet chirp leaking for its beak. It stopped and settled beside the water where it collected what it needed and flew away. Both human eyes were glued to it and neither moved to avoid scaring it away. Eventually they clambered out the old vehicle, their shoes crunching on the desert-dry sandy grit.

"You want to swim?" Sam smiled, a genuine and open smile that showed his life story in a single tilt of the head. He'd lowered his guard and Dean knew he needed to reciprocate. Sam didn't wait; he was already taking long strides towards the rippling pool while discarding articles of clothing in the process. He left a trail of clothes behind him like a toddler leaves mess.

Dean scramble to catch up with the man. A smile cracking his face and allowing his real self to leak through.

"Shit! It's freezing!" Dean cried when the water lapped at his toes.

Sam, on the other hand, was already waist deep storming ahead as though it was a pleasant bath. He laughed until tears streamed down his face at Dean's whimpyness. Suddenly an evil and cruel idea descended on him and he immediately began splashing the soldier with the water.

The older man squealed like a school girl and tried to use his large hands to cover his exposed skin. His cries echoed off the hills surrounding them.

"Stop-stop-stop." He cried, "I can't breathe! It's too cold." A squeal ripped from his lips, "Right, I'm not kidding. I'll kill you. Stop!"

He dove for the taller man but he ducked under completely so he would be safe from any water splashes. Dean grabbed him anyway, pulled him out the water and dumped him back in sending a small tsunami across the pool.

"You're an absolute monster!" Sam called over his shoulder but his words were broken by chuckling. He swam away speedily, coincidentally displaying his lean but muscular body under the water.

Dean laughed but quickly set chase.

It was over two hours later and Dean watched Sam clamber out of the water to flop down on the sandy bank. He'd continued swimming, doing laps, for a few minutes after the soldier had become thoroughly exhausted and retired to rest. The man's body glistened like an Adonis as the water slowly trickled down his tanned skin. Dean forcefully made himself avert his gaze.

Sam dropped down beside him, chest puffing out from exhaustion. Dean watched him as he lay all the way down so his head rested against the bank and closed his eyes. Sam probably knew he was being watched but didn't care.

"Thank you for bringing me here." The soldier murmured barely more than a whisper. If it had been windy it would have stolen his voice away. As he spoke the words he reminded himself of how Sam had gracefully lowered his guard for him.

Sam peeped open a hazel eye to momentarily assess his fake husband's expression, "Well, I needed a swim anyway. Don't start thinking I'm going soft on you. You're accents are still appalling."

Despite everything the Winchester shook his head and grinned ear to ear. Yes, his accent sucked but right here and right now that couldn't matter in the slightest.

"Bitch." He chuckled.

Sam smirked, good naturedly , "Jerk."


	4. Chapter 4

It was hot again but that wasn't exactly news in Morocco. However, that message hadn't seemed to been translated to the sweat trickling down Dean's back as it continued irregardless. The soldier kept his back purposely arched slightly to prevent the expensive material of the shirt from touching, and therefore undoubtedly sticking to, his moist back.

However, even Sam seemed a little hot under the collar today as they sat outside the man's office who had the ability to grant them access to the ball. Whether it was nerves or this vicious heatwave that caused the younger male to shift every couple of minutes Dean did not know. He would occasionally turn, take once glance at Dean's fedora and move it slightly as though it was perpetually crooked. Sam also repeatedly buttoned and unbuttoned the collar around his neck as though fearful he'd come across either too lax or too formal.

" _It'll be fine._ " Dean murmured before reaching over to rest his hand reassuringly on Sam's knee and giving a squeeze. It suddenly dawned on him that it was the most natural action they'd had between them; the soldier hadn't thought even once about simply touching Sam's leg.

They both jumped when the heavy oak doors were opened beside them to reveal a thin, female assistant. She called them up and Sam engaged with her immediately by commenting on some mutual friend of theirs. The woman took the bait causing her stern face to melt into a smile and began talking animatedly.

" _Oh, please excuse us! I believe he is waiting."_ Sam slipped in seamlessly to break up the chatter and proceeded into the large, air conditioned office.

* * *

" _Mr Wesson_ ," The large man stood to shake his hand, " _I've heard stunning comments on yourself."_

The tall man blushed as he lowered himself into the leather armchair opposite the heavy dark wood desk, " _And, of course, I could say the same of you, Sir."_

Dean could imagine himself delivering the same line and could hear in his own head how sappy and cardboard his performance would be. His comment would be looked down on as sleazy and like a suck-up or even worse, as a performance. Once again, Dean's eyes wondered across to Sam and just stared as the man played the part that seemed almost perfectly fitted for him.

" _And this must be your wonderful husband? From Paris, I hear."_ The officer opened, adjusting his body to face the silent member. Sam and Dean cursed internally as they'd planned for the more experienced spy to take the reins in the meeting. Dean could say anything to screw up their whole operation.

" _Yes! He's wonderful and very excited at the prospect of attending the Commander's ball."_ Wesson managed to interject before Dean had to speak.

The message to look excited or at least enthusiastic didn't make it to Dean's face in time for when the man turned his beady eyes on him.

" _He doesn't look excited_." The man behind the desk observed as Sam's mouth fluttered uselessly, " _Do you have somewhere you'd rather be?"_

" _Ergh, you know men!"_ Sam silently cursed himself for taking upon the feminine role again but it had worked several times before in sticky situations, " _He wanted to have a beer with his friends but I tell him how important this is to me."_

The man licked his teeth whilst reclining back in his leather chair so the material squeaked. His chubby hands set beneath his chin as he gazed almost indolently at the couple opposite him. He took a breath and assessed them.

" _I'm sorry,"_ He murmured while sluggishly pulling a cigar from a small wooden box. His gaze passed from Sam to Dean. He addressed the undercover soldier, " _You'll have to indulge your husband this time. I really need charismatic people there to keep it running smoothly."_

To say Sam was thrilled was an understatement. He had to tone down his excitement a notch to ensure it stayed in line with the fictional story he'd created.

" _That is wonderful news, sir! Thank you so much!"_ Sam grinned and leant forward to shake the man's hand but he spoke first in a harder, more intimidating tone.

" _But first! I need to test your engineering skills... you know, just a common precaution to ensure you are who you say you are. This is a very important event after all_." He peered down on them.

Sam swallowed so loud he thought it was going to be audible. Dean shifted but accepted the challenge easily. He knew enough about engines and mechanics. After all, before he'd enlisted he had spent the majority of his time on his uncle Bobby's scrapyard fixing up old Junkers with him.

" _Good. I have a car below in the car area but it is broken. If you'd please advise me on the problem."_ The man knew what the issue was. That much was clear from his sneer.

* * *

Dean wiped his oil covered fingers on the rag provided while desperately trying not to let his massive, cheesy grin rip onto his lips. The man waited impatiently beside Sam a few yards back where they'd been making small talk that sounded strained despite the tall man's oozing charisma. Even though he was done with the engine he didn't roll down his clean sleeves yet. Undoubtedly, he'd have to show the areas of damage to further prove his qualifications.

The heat had only increased as the day wore on causing Dean to wipe the sweat from his face surreptitiously every few minutes. He was a loaf of bread in a long bake oven switched to high. Sam's hair was beginning to look damp but he didn't look half as bad as the Councillor standing beside him with thick drips of sweat rolling down his forehead or the sweat patches so large that the true shade of the shirt was hidden.

" _Sir! It's your oil pump, complete failure. You'll need to get that replaced but I checked out the rest of the engine and also saw that the radiator is close to getting clogged. Much longer and it'll become a serious problem. It's an easy enough fix however. It's a common issue we get in our shop in Paris."_ Dean smiled gently at the man who deserved less than so. Luckily for him, Dean had to sell himself in order to get an invitation.

The relief caused Sam's shoulders to visibly sink down as the tension radiated out. Plus, Dean had stuck to the story and played the character! He was absolutely elated! He couldn't help the proud smile he shot in the man's direction moments later.

" _I'm impressed, Mr Wesson."_ He slipped his hand inside his jacket and pulled out two crisp white ball invitations lined in shiny gold, " _I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."_

The car door slammed behind them and Sam threw his head back against the pale leather of the seat. His mouth slightly open, eye closed and neck exposed as he stretched back. A swallow moved his Adam's apple. Dean's green eyes lingered for slightly longer than necessary. He coughed and tore his eyes away. Sure, that wooden cart was just as pleasing to look at... right?

* * *

"I can't believe you pulled that off." The tall man panted, glancing across at the soldier, "It was a miracle. How do you know so much about cars?"

Dean kicked the car going, the loud engine being able to mask their conversation as they began to journey back to Sam's apartment. They could never be too careful.

"Back home when I was a kid I would spend a shit tonne of time at my uncle's house while my dad was who knows where whilst doing who knows what. My uncle owned a scrap yard so I'd spend the majority of my time fixing up old Junkers or building up a useable machine from scraps and bits from around the yard. I never thought it would be useful in a situation like this." He chuckled slightly and felt even happier when he saw Sam smile fondly at his past memories.

"Well, one day, when we're out of here, I'll thank your uncle. I think he may have save our lives."

"Until tomorrow." Dean corrected.

Sam hardened and turned his face to watch the passing world, "Tomorrow is tomorrow. If it goes smoothly I'll be able to thank him personally. If not... then a thank you letter will have to do."

The soldier regretted bringing up their mission tomorrow. It had ruined the atmosphere and chemistry that had charged between them. Dean tried to snap himself out of it. They were here to do a job. This shouldn't be impacted by whether he liked Sam or not as he was there to do a mission. That's all. Nothing more.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't too long until nightfall by the time they'd returned home and eaten the food they made together. It helped bring back the smoothness in their relationship but there was still something cold handing between them as though they were both constantly reminding themselves that it wasn't real. It couldn't ever be real. At least, that's what Dean was thinking. He couldn't even fathom the internal workings of Sam's brain.

The sun was setting; sending its last few cascading beams down and straight through the large doors in Sam's living room. It cast the room in a golden orange that seemed to possess a kind of magic. It hit the tile, warming them and they would stay heated for a while after the sun had died away. Sam sat on the floor with his legs stretched out and leaning back on his elbows absorbing the rays. The light danced across his tanned skin.

Dean sighed from where he'd turned and chanced upon this view.

He gently came and sat beside Sam to try and surrender to the same peace. He wondered if this was a regular ritual for the man or if it was only the pressure of such a day that led him to sun bathe. Sam lay down flat on the floor and the guest followed his example.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know I didn't make it an easy transition for you in such an unfamiliar environment. It's just so important to get it right and I was scared they'd send me another buffoon who would screw up my whole operation. Even after you arrived I was too scared to admit that you may be able to hold your own."

"That's happened before?" He didn't feel he had the right to pry but when else would Sam find the opportunity to open up. Besides, as he had stupidly reminded them earlier: they could both be dead tomorrow.

"We were in Russia and he claimed he was from a certain country," He screwed up his face and waved his hand around to dismiss the details, "Which was fine as I had specified he was from the North as I knew none of my friends or neighbors spoke the Northern dialect from there. However, a few days after arrival he decided to give his character more back story by saying he spent much of his childhood in the South and that one of his parents were Southern so had travelled around a lot. Unfortunately, a few locals spoke basic, broken southern dialect and instantly tried to engage him in a few phrases they could remember. Upon realising this guy couldn't speak a single word of it the authorities were swiftly alerted to suspicious activity." There was a couple moments of silence with only the soft breeze rattling dry leaves as noise, "I was the lucky one. I escaped with my life with nothing but a scar where a got hit by a bullet as I ran."

"I'm sorry." He whispered against the quiet of the approaching darkness, "It wasn't your fault though."

Sam turned his head to gaze over Dean's face. His hazel eyes slowly mapped out his face and counted the star like freckles but always returned to his plump lips. The tall man's tongue repeatedly darted out to moisten his lips as though in preparation to ask something but stopped several times before working up the courage.

"If we die tomorrow will any of this matter?" He spoke in English with his usual American accent but on some words they carried a slight lilt to them due to his mouths over familiarity with the Moroccan's shape of words. Years had eroded him.

"Of course it mattered." He replied instantly despite feeling that Sam's question deserved more time and thorough thought placed upon it. "How could it not?"

Sam didn't hesitate this time. His hand rose until it touched Dean's slightly stubbled cheek where his thumb stroked smooth lines against warm skin. He could smell the solider as they were so close; musky and comforting like being embraced but desired at the same time. Slowly, like to give the man time to move away, Sam leant forward until their lips bumped together gently and a tender kiss soon deteriorated into the hot, passion they had both fantasised of.

Sam raised his neck to pant a breath and Dean took the opportunity to kiss at the neck which had teased him so often over the last couple days. Through his pants, caused by the sudden surge of adrenaline, Sam managed to form a sentence.

"Emotions are complicated. Especially real ones but that will not matter."

Almost as though breathing out those words had given him freedom of permission, Sam pulled himself on top of Dean so he could straddle the man as they kissed and allowed their hands to greedily explore. Fingers tangled in hair and pulled as desire wracked through them. Hearts beating like racing horses.

Dean grabbed for the hem of Sam's shirt and tugged it over his head, grunting in annoyance when their mouths had to break to allow them to throw the shirt away. Dean's followed shortly afterward and in the moment he didn't even worry about creasing the expensive fabric.

The soldier's hands felt their way down Sam's torso, enjoying the feeling of sleek muscle beneath the skin. He was seriously in shape. The men moaned into each other's mouths when they found something particularly sensitive or sent a spark through their bodies.

Sam's hands rushed ahead and began to fiddle with the belt that clasped Dean's pants shut. He had managed to undo it before Dean could find sense in himself to stop this.

"Sam, Sam! Stop." He panted, grabbing the other man's wrists to still them. The puppy dog eyes he got shot back broke is heart but he stayed strong, "Stop, baby. Are you sure? I need to know. Are you sure you want to do this?" His green eyes fought to meet the manic hazel.

"Please, Dean. I wanted you from the moment you sent foot in that bar. Now, please, just fuck me already." He continued working on Dean's pants.

If Dean's member hadn't already been interested, it certainly was now. He dropped his head back against the tile and groaned before helping Sam shimmy down his pants and pulling the other man out of his too. They were sweating and panting with their erections pressing up against the material of their underwear. Sam pulled Dean's dick out and began stroking the shaft in his hand. He roamed the length of it then ran his thumb along the slit that caused an electric tingle to zap up the base of his spine. He moaned uncontrollably and meowed Sam's name between kisses.

When Sam pulled his mouth away Dean protested for the mere moments before a tongue ran from base to tip and Dean clawed his fingers into the other's hair. He took him completely into his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks as he rose the length. His tongue swirled the tip as one hand gently massaged Dean's tightly strung thigh.

It took the soldier a few minutes to notice but eventually he saw that Sam was reaching behind himself to work himself open with his own fingers. Guilt began to fill him but it evaporated into mist when Sam took him fully down to the root almost effortlessly. He cried out senseless sounds and pulled roughly on Sam's hair to encourage him.

What felt like too soon, Sam pulled off and leant up to kiss Dean which allowed the man a taste of himself and the precum that Sam had encouraged from him. He lapped it up as it came served with the distinct taste of Sam.

"I'm ready. I need you." Sam managed to utter against the other man's lips. "Fuck me."

Where Sam managed to pull a condom from, Dean didn't know but what he did know was that he was grateful as he couldn't wait a second longer. They rolled the condom onto him as their breaths mixed and mingled.

Dean flipped them over so Sam was lying on the floor with his legs open and ready for him. He was shifting with eagerness and waiting. Patience wasn't one of Sam's greatest qualities. He pulled Dean closer and kissed him again. Dean pumped the man's dick as he slid into him to ease the burn of being stretched. Sam hissed but held Dean close to stop him pulling out or giving up on the idea all together. They waited still with Dean struggling to control himself was Sam's warmth wrapped around him.

Sam slowly adjusted to Dean's size and began to move his body in an attempt to create some friction. He forced Dean faster even though the soldier was hesitant due to the ache of stretching. He was searching for that sensation the one that would make him throw his head back and cry out. His long legs wrapped around Dean's torso so his feet pushed at the man's firm butt. Final Dean hit it.

He threw his head back, ignoring the hard tile. White danced in his eyes.

More he needed more. He needed climax. Sam pushed on further despite Dean's panting and attempts for it to be less like fucking and more like making love. Sam didn't have time for love. Not when it could all be over tomorrow. He needed the release.

It started building up inside him. The edge getting closer and closer like a steam train that could not be stopped now. Dean was, if anything, closer than Sam as his senses began to blur and his pace began to stutter. White flooded his vision. Somewhere in his mind he registered Sam calling out.

Sam was seconds behind as Dean's orgasm dragged him over too.


	6. Chapter 6

He hadn't slept but his mind and body had definitely shut down for a few minutes. He was lying on top of Sam's firm chest where he could feel both their heartbeats hammering to escape their cages like birds. He was still inside the other man and Sam's legs were secured around his butt like an anchor keeping him in place. He had never found himself in such a place and in such a position. He father would be turning in his grave if he knew.

They had to move soon as the come splattered across Sam's stomach would soon cool in the light nighttime breeze that was drifting through the windows, fluttering the curtains. However, when Dean tried to shift Sam held him close and raised his forehead to touch his. His fingers held firmly onto his shoulder but not hard enough to mark.

"Not yet, _My Love_." Sam murmured so low that Dean wondered if it was real or his own imagination whispering to him. "Lets stay like this just a little longer." The mild begging tone was a stranger in Sam's voice.

"But the neighbors..." His addled brain struggled to comprehend the neighbors and what they'd be doing but he knew they were a problem for them. For some reason they were an issue.

Sam chucked slightly, "They're nosy but they're not voyeurs. They are very respectful people who would turn away at even the slight suggestion we were going to have sex." In a close knit community it wasn't exactly approved of to go around peering in couples' windows as they made love and this kind of habit was something people found out about.

The soldier relaxed into him and sighed. He hadn't been this relaxed in months and yet he had to assassinate the enemy's Commander tomorrow. Surely that should cause him to be twice as anxious as any usual day at battle. However, the only difference was Sam. The man had embraced him, tolerated him and done what was necessary to keep him safe. Gently, so not to spook him, Dean stroked the strands of hair from the spy's face until he could see all his features. His firm cheekbones were shadowed by the moonlight that caused his eyes lashes to cast lines along his eyelids.

After a few minutes Sam sighed, "Lets get cleaned up then to bed. I'm exhausted."

The tall man winced when Dean pulled out and they went about cleaning up the mess they'd made.

* * *

An hour later and the window was shut tight so the curtains no longer fluttered and no neighbors could peer inside. The apartment was dark with nobody on the roof and nobody sleeping on the slightly lumpy couch. Instead they slept together in Sam's large comfortable bed where they were wrapped up in the other person's limbs. Head resting on shoulder and arms keeping the other so close their chests touched when they breathed.

The clung to each other as though the world span around them in a desperate attempt to pull them apart but they resisted.

Hearts beating in unison. They slept without thought of the day to follow.

* * *

The chattering and clinking of glasses was loud but the orchestra playing in the corner managed to still sound out across the room. Sam fidgeted. Luckily, the champagne glass prevented his fingers moving about too rapidly and reveal his anxiety.

They both wore well fitted tuxedos that Sam had somehow managed to procure in 24 hours. The tall man's suit nipped in at his thin waist but broadened out to accommodate the muscles of his shoulders as a good suit should do. His hair had been brushed back and magically appeared to hold in place effortlessly. He looked stunning and Dean wasn't afraid to comment on this. Sam turned away to hide his blush but Dean managed to see the red shining on his cheeks.

Hazel eyes frequented the clock almost obsessively. The diversion, a bomb hidden in the town centre, was set to explode at 7:30 which would only be a short while after the Commander was due to arrive. He was distracted but managed to put on a good enough performance to fool whoever came up to them grinning. His anxiety was like a cloak; he had the ability to throw it off himself on command and perform but he would pull it back over his shoulders when the preying eyes had wandered elsewhere.

" _He's running late._ " Sam whispered under his breath as he sipped the bubbled liquid. He dare not speak English when surrounded by people but he was just as comfortable in the country's native tongue. It was Dean that he converted languages for.

" _Not yet. It's only 20 minutes past 7_." Dean reassured by squeezing Sam's hand.

People mingled and laughed together. However, Dean remained rooted to Sam who loitered near the drinks table where their weapons were hidden. People shot concerned or confused looks towards Sam as the life of the party was suddenly hidden in the corner whilst trying to avoid everyone if possible. The spy didn't seem to register these looks as he was only one step away from physically pacing whilst chewing on his thumb nail. The soldier gently placed his hand on Sam's forearm to hold him still.

" _Sammy, we'll be fine. It'll be perfec_ t." He tried to push down the nervous butterflies in order to support Sam. This meant more for Sam. He'd been building up for this moment over the last two years; it had become his whole life.

The man nodded.

Several minutes later, There was a loud clinking of glass and the room fell silent. A soldier, one of the Commander's personal guard, came forward on a the dark wooden balcony above them and announced the arrival of the guest of honor. Waving to the crowd, the Commander stepped forward to the edge of the balcony where he began to address the gathered audience.

Sam ducked down under the guise of tightening his shoe lace but slipped his hand under the drinks table where the machine guns had been taped for their convenience. He slid one out and placed it into Dean's awaiting hand. The familiarity of cool gun metal sent a rush through him. Sam grabbed his own gun and remained ducked from the staff and crowd until their was a deafening crash.

Windows shattered, the building shook and people began screaming. The bomb.

Sam immediately raised the gun and unflinchingly pumped the trigger as to send bullets directly towards the Commander. It happened too fast for the older guy to respond.

Dean reacted as soon as he saw Sam burst into action. He aimed and fired towards the staff to either prevent them attacking or to encourage them to run. A couple of guests launched towards the pair but the soldier took them down swiftly.

Sam grabbed Dean's hand and tugged him toward the side door that they'd secretly unlocked earlier that day. A woman leapt out onto the floor in front of them and she clawed for them. The soldier couldn't figure out why Sam was hesitating in killing her until he peaked around Sam's body to see that it was a woman that Sam had be sat around the table with on the first night. The gun was pointed towards her. It was still.

" _Sam, why_?" The woman begged.

The spy took a strong breath before firing one shot, only inches from her body and leaping around her. They needed out but he wasn't heartless.

The soldier fired behind them when they got chased but most people were in shock so were frozen to the ballroom.

Sam gasped as a bullet bit into the flesh of his thigh but he forced himself onward. He shouted at Dean not to slow don't, not to look back. He hobbled against the pain.

They burst out the side door and stumbled into a dark alleyway. The sound of screaming and flames filled the air from both their party and the bomb site only a few hundred meters away. Block it out. They leapt into the car and rushed out of the area, wheels spinning. Nobody paid attention to them as they fled the scene as hundreds of people were running in absolute chaos and hysterics.

" _Get us away from here_." Sam instructed without moving his frozen gaze, guilt and sorrow trickling past his cold outward appearance. His hand reaching down to guard his wound.


	7. Epilogue

"Sam?" Dean called, peering around the small town. He should have known he'd lose his husband when they'd decided to split up and head to different areas of the market. "Sam?!" He called louder. Some people parted and the soldier could see his partner sat on an old wooden bench beside an equally old man. They were deep in conversation; Sam smiling at the words the other spoke.

It was only when he got closer that he noticed they were speaking Arabic; the language Sam learnt for his mission in Morocco those couple of years ago for the war that had only finished a few months before now.

" _It was difficult, as I'm sure you can appreciate, but I had My wife and sons so we made it through."_ The elderly man croaked, his voice thick and rough like sandpaper. His dark eyes were damp.

" _You showed such strength. You should be proud of yourself and your family as you have achieved more than most people could ever dream of._ " Sam comforted with a gentle, reassuring smile. " _Ah, Hassan, this is my husband_." Dean smiled when Sam had noticed him without even looking up, " _His name is Dean."_

" _Hello. Have I stolen your husband from you_?" The man asked.

" _Sam is always running off to make new friends. I can barely keep track of him_!" He chuckled and the man joined in. During their short conversation he'd already got a clear sense of the type of person Sam was.

" _I have to thank you. Sam was telling me all about what you did during the war. You prevented them taking over Morocco and even though I don't live there my heart will always belong. It will always be my homeland_." His old, watery eyes peered up at Dean.

" _In a way, I believe Morocco will always feel a bit like home for me._ " Sam admitted, this was news to both the old man and Dean, " _It's a place I really grew to know and understand. It's also where I met Dean for the first time too_." He smiled up at his husband with a cheeky grin.

Sam turned back to the old man, " _Will you come to dinner with us? I'd love to hear all about Morocco when you were a child!_ " His passion for culture shining through.

Dean rolled his eyes fondly at his husband. After the initial hostility Sam had given out upon meeting Dean, the man had revealed himself to have the biggest and warmest heart of anyone the ex-soldier had ever met. He peered down at his husband and how the curl of his lips caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle up. He was pretty sure he was falling in love with Sam a little more every day.

The man refused but was grateful for the invitation. He was waiting for his son to come and meet him.

Dean rolled his eyes again. _Only Sam would invite a stranger to their anniversary dinner._

BONUS MATERIAL

" _You think I'm lying_?!" Sam laughed, starting off the rest of the group's into hysterics. " _As if I could pull that off! You can all read me like a book!_ " His radiant smile was the centre of attention as all eyes were on him.

A woman with slick, black curls grabbed Sam's much desired attention, " _I don't know. I feel Sam would be a good liar! He could be deceiving us all! If he exists show us a picture."_

Sam's smile was devious as he pulled out his leather wallet and extracted a well-worn image of his husband or also known as the man he'd be partnering with in many months. He'd only just been provided with an image of the soldier they'd be sending and he looked nice enough, " _Now you must believe me!_ "

" _He's far too attractive for you!_ " Someone called jokingly from across the table. A murmur of disagreement fluttered through the group.

" _I don't know... it depends how absolute desperate you are to avoid the attention of the local men!_ " An older man with a dark beard spoke. They all laughed uproariously at the comment as Sam really had been shaking off the locals for the whole year he'd been here.

Sam shook his head but grinned nonetheless, " _Not at all but my heart remains loyal to Dean."_

The dark haired woman encouraged the group to halt their laughter and teasing, " _Now, now everyone. No more teasing poor Sam! However, I do want to know when we'll meet this mysterious man_ ," She bit her lower lip, " _I sure am curious_." Everyone on the table was.

Sam couldn't help but smile fondly at this warm and eccentric group, " _All in good time."_


End file.
